


Empire View

by Aiden_Ravelle



Category: White Collar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 02:56:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12123012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aiden_Ravelle/pseuds/Aiden_Ravelle
Summary: ""Not many places I could run up here," Neal quipped reminding Peter they were 86 stories high." Story written for Suicide Awareness day.





	Empire View

 First white collar fic. Been obsessed. Had been thinking about writing this, then found out it was World Wide Suicide Awareness day, so it seemed even more fitting. I do not own White Collar or the characters. Enjoy, review, and thanks for reading!

 

Neal stood outside on the 86th floor of the Empire State Building taking in the sight of New York City and thinking about his last 24 hours. He had dinner with Mozz and June the night before, staying up late playing games and drinking wine. Today, he went into work bringing coffee for the crew, Diana, Jones, Peter.  He didn’t even interrupt Peter or complain about the van today. It was perfect. Now this view: late night, bright lights, all things New York, with fresh air on his face.

Neal had planned it this way, so his last day was perfect, happy, everything he loved.  He had hidden some letters that would not be found for a while. One to Mozzie, giving him the last share of the treasure; which never felt like his to begin with. He hadn’t been the one to steal it, and being out of his radius, he never had a chance to see it anyway. One to June, thanking her for her kindness. And finally, one for Peter, confessing every single crime, including the one he was about to commit. Well, it used to be a crime, or so he was told. He never fully understood how they could be punished for suicide.

He knew a lot of his thoughts were his depression. It would be hard for him not to have it, after everything that had happened in his life. He’d been battling it for years, hiding it from the world, just another of his cons. Not even Mozzie knew, and if he did, he never said. Neal normally hid the depression pills, used a different identity, and hid them where not even Mozz would think to look.

There were times though, he just thought of ending it all. He’d been here before, a lot after Kate’s death. In relation to his crimes, he knew he had to either stop all together, and serve his time, or keep doing them and keep running, forever. He knew he couldn’t stop, even if he tried, Mozz kept pulling him into things, or even doing small crimes to help with investigations. All of his crimes weighed heavily on his mind. He remembered every one over the years, all the art, the identities, the cities.

Even if he ran from his crimes, Peter would find him, chase him to keep running. He knew the only way to stop was to stop running, and this was the perfect way out. The depression, the law, the memories, would all stop chasing him, so he would finally have peace. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts when a voice spoke behind him, “Hey Neal.”

‘Shit, Peter,’ Neal thought, turning around with a big smile on his face, “what are you doing here at,” he glanced at his watch, “1:23 in the morning?”

“I was wondering the same thing about you,” Peter replied.

“I’m in my radius, so I can come and go as I please,” Neal stated matter of factly.

“Yes, but you should be asleep,” Peter answered.

“So should you,” Neal laughed.

“Well, I was up late thinking about something from today, and I decided to check your anklet and noticed you’d been here a while, so I’d see if you want company,” Peter offered.

“What were you thinking about?” Neal asked looking back out into the New York skyline.

“Well,” Peter started, unsure of how he was going to word his statement, “I noticed you were rather happy today, and no arguing with me and it all just seemed a little off. Maybe not to everyone else, but to me,” he confessed, “I have faith in you, but it seemed like you were saying silent goodbyes, like you’d make a run for it.”

After a few moments of silence, Neal laughed, not taking his face off the skyline. His back was to Peter, so Peter could not see his face.

“Not many places I could run up here,” Neal quipped reminding Peter they were 86 stories high.

“It’s beautiful up here isn’t it?” Peter asked changing the subject for a moment to figure out his next question, it had to be asked delicately.

“Mhm,” Neal replied, still not turning back toward his friend.

“Neal, were you going to jump?” Peter finally sputtered out.

“What makes you ask that?” Neal still didn’t look at his friend.

“Well, um, this is silly, but I saw an article on one of those social media sites about things to look out for with depression in others. I guess today is a day dedicated to depression awareness,” ironic Neal thought, “and anyway, I read the article and it seemed like you were doing a lot of these things, but I also thought maybe I was seeing these things because I read the article. You know?”

After another moment, Peter added, “I just got a gut feeling to come check on you.”

Neal sighed, “I never could con you, could I?” he reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a bottle of pills which he tossed at Peter.

“Antidepressants?” Peter asked glad that he had come to check on his CI.

“Even with the meds, there’s days…” Neal trailed off confessing his feelings. He had turned slightly more toward Peter, but still wasn’t making eye contact.

“Neal, why didn’t you tell me?” Peter asked quietly.

“Tell you what?” Neal snapped, “That I need meds so I don’t blow my brains out? That obviously those meds don’t work? That my childhood was terrible, the girl of my dreams murdered, that my life of crime will never stop chasing me? What do you want me to say Peter?”

Neal started angry, but by the end of his spiel he was almost in tears. He never voiced his problems. Part of being a conman was hiding the truth, and putting off the image he wanted. Even with his friends, he never wanted his problems to be a burden on them, so he kept them to himself.

Peter noticed Neal’s hands had started shaking. He took his CI into his arms and gave him a friendly hug.

“Just let it out,” Peter said as Neal had started to cry. Peter wasn’t expecting his night to turn into this, but he knew it was better than what would have happened otherwise. Neal cried for about ten minutes, with Peter rubbing his back and whispering, “It’s ok.”

By the time Neal started calming down, a guard walked by to tell them the observation deck was closing.

Neal brushed off his tears, and mumbled a quiet, “Thanks,” to Peter.

Peter had never seen his friend so upset. He knew El was better at emotions than he was, but he was the only one here to comfort Neal. Neal had calmed down enough that the tears stopped and he turned back to the skyline in embarrassment.

Peter pulled Neal’s wrist to turn him. Peter looked into Neal’s bloodshot blue eyes and said, “You are more than just my CI, my responsibility. You are my friend and I care about you. I’m not going to let you deal with this on your own.”

Neal nodded and gave a small smile, “Thanks.”

The guard appeared again, so Peter said, “Let’s go back to my place. That way you won’t wake June coming in this early,” Neal nodded in response.

Neal was greeted by Satchmo when he walked into Peter’s home.   
  
After a good night’s sleep in the guest room, Neal woke to Peter’s voice, “El made breakfast, if you are hungry.”  


If Peter had told Elizabeth the real reason why Neal came home with him at 2 in the morning, she never acted like it.

“Would you like some breakfast Neal?” she asked when he came down the stairs, having a spot ready for him at the table.

He nodded, and then he said, “Morning,” and smiled at Peter. He knew how hard his depression could be, but he was glad that he finally had someone to help him fight it.


End file.
